Meet At Maclaren's
by NanoBlade
Summary: The finale of Ollie's Story sees him move far in life, and the journey he took over one summer that changed his life forever. The story that brought him from Washington, to New York, to across North America, and then to the "One" finishes. AU, not following the events of the finale, with my own ending. Rated T for drinking, language, and other mature subject matter.
1. Chapter 1: First Round

**A/N: Well now this is awkward! Hey guys! I wanna first apologize to anyone I may have kept waiting. Ultimately, I have found inspiration with many other projects, and this one has been hard to write. Not just because the finale ruined it, but because I have a huge case of writer's block. Which is where you can help. I have a good general idea of how I want to move the plot forward, and I know how this will all end. But subplots are something that I can use more of. If anyone has an idea of a subplot or something that I can use, and I like it, not only will I use it, I will credit you for it. Please review/PM me for any ideas, or if you just want to tell me what you think of it. I appreciate any and all feedback for my stories, and would love to see many more for this one. Now that we got that done, here comes the big thing: this is Ollie's last chapter. I hope to keep this last chapter going for a while, but after I finish it, I don't intend on writing any more HIMYM content. But it is far from the truth if you think I will abandon writing altogether. I have many new projects on my mind, including an OC Hunger Games fanfic which I will not look towards releasing until October/November. Also, this is just to make up for the last month or so that I owe to you, the reader: I have released the first three chapters all at the same time! This one I have given the Pulp Fiction treatment, meaning it will be very non-linear, but hopefully still easy to follow. This also shows the return of two characters from the show that only appeared once, as well as another character in chapter 3. Enjoy the first chapter of the finale of Ollie's Story****  
**

Chapter 1: First Round

"To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield"

Ulysses.

Kids, your Uncle Ollie was someone who saw the world in a way unlike most. He firmly believed that life was both something that was planned out with us meant to go on a certain path, and at other times something completely unknown. He taught me that as he returned from his trip across the continent. He never looked back after that. Moved forward with swift determination into what life had to offer him. And just as we found our big moments in 2013, he too would finally have his chance to shine.

Day 38: Port Angeles, WA

My trip through the country had driven me so far, I was now in Port Angeles. After stopping in Seattle, I turned around, and towards my home. From there I planned on heading to Victoria, Tofino, and then to the big Van City.

My parents were shocked at both how I showed up on their doorstep one day, and the sight of me. My beard was quite big already, and I was really looking like someone who spent almost a month on the road. I wore the tie-dye shirt I got in San Fransisco, and my old green hoodie hung off my backpack like a flag along with the other items.

"What have you been doing this past month, Ollie?!" Said Dad the evening I arrived.

I showed him some of the stuff I had gathered on that trip. He was amazed at what I had with me, but was shocked with the Baggie in my glove compartment.

"Son?" He said. "Is that what I think it is?"

I replied by holding a finger to my mouth. "It's a sandwich, Dad. Some guys in San Fran gave it to me along with the shirt."

"You aren't planning on taking this into Canada, are you?" He said.

"God, no." I replied. "I know the risks. I'm finishing it before I leave."

Dad agreed, as long as I didn't eat it in the house.

Then he saw the souvenir from Texas. He picked it up, examining it.

"I've seen this kind of six shooter before." He said. "These are standard issue for Texas Rangers." He looked at me with surprise. "Did you steal this from them?"

"No. It was a gift from one who I helped a few weeks ago."

"What happened?"

I looked down. "Nothing. Nothing you need to know."

I stayed home for a good two nights before deciding I needed to keep moving on.

"What's the plan from here on out?" Said Mom as I was packing up the truck. They gave me a few boxes of my stuff they wanted to be rid of.

"Head to Vancouver Island, Victoria, Tofino, then head to Whistler, see the mountains, and down to Vancouver. I'll head east from there on."

"You make me proud, Oliver. I have no doubt you have found, or will find whatever it is you're looking for" She said. "You think that the One for you is out there?"

I smiled, and took my mom by the shoulders. "I know she is, Mom. And I will find her."

"Ollie! Before you head off, I thought you'd want this." Said Dad.

He held up something I last saw a year ago: a silver arrowhead on a chain. That was Lucy's last birthday present from me.

"We found it at her grave when we visited after you and Juno went home. I know you left it with her, but Lucy would've wanted you to have it."

I took it, and put it on my neck. I had felt Lucy sitting in the truck's shotgun seat this whole trip. Now I knew she was with me with her necklace.

"Thanks, Pops." I climbed into the truck, and started the engine. "The next time I come home, it'll be with my future wife." I said.

"And when that day comes, we'll welcome her with open arms, Ollie." Said Dad.

With that I drove off. It was a long road this summer, but the road was nowhere near from ending.

I was on the ferry as dusk was rolling in. Heading across the border was a breeze, now that I had eaten that sandwich.

I looked out at the sun setting as I sat down on the deck on the ferry. I held the arrowhead in my hand as I kept thinking how things might have been different if Lucy was still around. Maybe I wouldn't be on this road, or on it all the same.

* * *

"Ollie!"

"Hm?" I looked up from the bar. The arrowhead lay down on the table beside my shaker.

"What's that?" Said Tracy. She pointed at the arrowhead.

I had been back from my trip for almost two weeks, and still all that had happened to me was lingering. It was clear not all of what I saw would be forgotten, and some of it had changed me. Just like my tattoos, I'd have those memories for the remainder of my life.

"This," I held the arrowhead up. "was the last thing I ever gave Lucy."

"So that's the pendant?" She said. She examined it carefully as I handed it to her, entranced by how shiny it was. Tracy was at times perfectly applicable to Barney's Fish Theory. She was indeed attracted to shiny objects. There was a lot I knew about Tracy, and a lot I didn't know. Now I felt it was time to find out one answer I wanted for so long.

"I get to ask a question that's been bugging me for years now, McConnell." I said. "Where the hell are you from? I've asked so many times this question, and you've answered with so many different places."

Tracy smiled. "You're right. I'm from Denver, Colorado in real life. Coldest winters in the west, and right in the heart of the Rockies."

I grinned. "Go Broncos."

Carl then walked up to me from behind the bar. "Alright, lovebirds. I need to borrow Ollie for a minute. Staff meeting starting up."

Tracy shrugged. "He's not the one I love like that. But whatever. I'll talk to you later, Ollie."

"Later, Juno." I said, as we headed into the back room.

* * *

Carl was someone who I had worked under for nearly three years. I was always one of his most loyal and dependable staff members, and as a result, he had given me a position as assistant bartending manager. He was one who surprised me when I admitted to him I was leaving for the summer.

"Is that a fact?" He said as I told him. It was the week before I planned to leave. He folded his arms, his rag in his hand. He looked like he might whip me over the head with it. "What am I to do for bartending while you're gone? Who's gonna take your place for the time being?"

I quivered. Maybe it wasn't such a good idea if it meant my job.

Then Carl grinned. "Easy, Blake. I'm just messing with you! You go have fun!"

I raised an eyebrow. "You sure?"

"Absolutely." He replied. "You've spent most of your vacation times here at the bar. I think you've earned it. How long?"

"A month or so at the most. Maybe two."

"Jesus, Ollie. This must be some expedition you're going on. Anywhere in particular?"

I shook my head. "Wherever the wind blows, Carl."

"You go and you have fun." He said.

"Is there anything I can bring back?" I asked.

Carl laughed. "Depends. Are you going to Miami?"

I shrugged. "I might."

"If you do, find Diego Batista. That guy owns a Cuban bar called the Chinchilla's Ear, and he owes me the secret recipe of his Cuban Margs. Get it from him."

"I'm on it." I said.

I found Diego eventually when I came to Miami. But I had to earn what he owed Carl, or he wouldn't give it to me. And boy, did I earn it.

* * *

Carl gathered everyone around in the back room, and began.

"First off, I don't know if you have seen, but Ollie has returned from his vacation!"

There were a few whoops as I waved a bit. Carl smiled.

"That bastard beat Diego Batista to the drinking games in his bar while he was gone! Now we have a new menu item because of him. But that is not why we are here tonight."

Then Carl took a quick second to breathe. "Believe it or not, I am not the first in my family to enter the bartending business. My granddad started his own from the ground up, and began one of DC's most successful chain of bars. But I needed everyone here to break the news. Late into July, he passed away."

"Shit, Carl! That sucks." Said Tommy, one of the busboys.

"He was an old geezer." Said Carl. "But here's where it gets interesting. His will leaves me the bars."

"Like two or three of them?" Said Freya, a waitress.

"Try all ten of them. I'm gonna be a fucking millionaire when I take the bars!"

The staff clapped and hollered. I was starting to see where this was going.

"But I can't just up and leave this bar as well. I've had this for over a decade, and it's still running strong."

"So what is the deal for it, Carl?" Said Doug.

Doug Martin. I hated that guy. He became an easy frenemy in the bar. I was one to use my fists during bar fights and where it was most needed. Doug used them whenever he wanted. But we had some form of respect for each other, despite our differences.

"Well, the first instinct was to sell the bar. But I realize I don't need the money for it, plus a lot of you guys would get fired as a result. I don't want that, and neither do you."

I wasn't positive, but I think Carl looked over at me when he said that.

"So I have come to only one possible solution. I will be testing potential candidates to inherit the bar, and whoever I think is good enough on my current staff to do so, will become the new owner. I have to move to DC by the end of next April to start running my gramps' bars, so I have until then to pick the next owner. I'll be expecting your candidacy submissions by the end of September."

There it was again. I swore that I saw Carl glance at me for a brief moment when he said that last sentence.

He finished up. "Anyone else who submits beyond that date can forget it. Now get out there and sell drinks."

We all started clearing out. Some of the more enthusiastic workers immediately jumped up to mob Carl of their wishes to run the bar as a new owner. I didn't bother, as I walked back out onto the main floor.

"Why not, Ollie? This is what you've been waiting for most of your life! What's stopping you?" Said a voice.

I didn't know how to respond. Maybe it was just that there were so many other people who deserved it more than me.

* * *

As my shift ended, I headed down to the subway. I had put it off for weeks. Now was time for me to get my new ink.

I had a system. After I became estranged from my family, I started a tradition: every time something life changing/ important moment happened in my life, I would get a new tattoo to symbolize that. So far I had five tattoos.

I started off with one that symbolized my first near death experience: a silhouette of a bear made up of one thin line on my right upper arm. When I was 15, I spent several days in the wild tracking down a bear that was terrorizing the locals. I found it, but it turned out it was on the receiving end of an abusive relationship with another bear nearly twice it's size. I somehow ended the life of the father of it's family, and then that made the mother leave my town alone. I still have the scars from that face off with the bear: three long slashes on my right forearm.

The second was Lucy's name and death date, which I got when I returned to New York in 2003. Lucy was the one I could call the closest in my family. I missed her with all my heart after she passed away of brain cancer.

The third I got right afterwards on the same day: an arrow right over my wound where I got shot. I first got it to remind myself never to go back to my family. But now it became a new symbol: always keep moving on, like how the arrow keeps moving until it hits it's target.

The fourth was a symbol that was on my keychain: a raindrop on my ankle. I got it to coincide with my new bartending license. My teacher, David gave these collapsible shot glass keychains to people who graduated his program. I was to give the keychain to whoever I would see as a potential student for David, just as Carl did for me. In fact, that was how I met Carl.

My fifth one was one that had the longest gap in between my additions. After I reconnected with my family, I found myself noticing how I had grown in character. I was no longer the twenty-one year old from Port Angeles, yet he was still a part of me. Now I was also a proud New Yorker, and a bartender as I wanted to be. I almost stuck to the traditional blue ink for this one, but Juno (she was known by that back then for me) told me to get it in white ink. Now I have a big white tattoo of a tree with long branches I the left side of my back, while sort of reaching to my left side as well.

Now, with my long, life changing journey done, it meant a new tattoo. I walked right into the old studio as I opened the door.

"He's back!" Cried Vic, one of the artists at the studio. He was one who had more ink than seemed really necessary. Both of his arms showed no bare skin. It was as if he was always wearing long sleeves, even though like most in the studio, he wore a leather vest.

"Hey, Vic." I replied. "Is Steve in?"

"Always Steve, right?" He said. "Don't worry. He's in back just finishing up with another customer. Head right in."

This wasn't one of the places someone like me would normally want to be seen in, but these guys were both good at what they did, and were actually friendly. As long as you didn't get on their bad side.

Steve was sitting down for this job, dragging the needle through his customer's shoulder. He looked up briefly when I walked in, and smiled. He was bald and had this creepy mustache.

"And the bartender comes back." He says.

"I always come back, Steve." I replied. "That's how stuff works for me."

The customer looked up at me, and laughed. "Yet from what I see here, Ollie, you barely have enough ink to really belong here. You're just a wimpy nerd like everyone else at that bar that you run."

I scowled. "Learn to fuck off and mind your own business, Amy." I replied.

Amy shook her head, and looked up at Steve. "We done, Steve?"

"Almost...there." He replied. He took a cloth, and rubbed off the excess ink. "Talk to Vic when you're ready to pay."

Amy got up, and Steve gesturing for me to to get into the chair.

"What happened now?"

"I traveled the continent." I said. "Saw most of the country, and a bit of Canada. I need something to say what I found emotionally, and I want something new."

"What're you thinking?" He asked.

"Ever read Ulysses?"

"No."

"There's a part of it that stood out to me."

"A written tattoo? That *is* new for you."

"It goes as follows. Hopefully it's short enough to fit on my arm: 'That which we are, we are. Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will. To seek, to strive, to find, and not to yield.'"

Steve nodded. "You got it. That'll definitely fit."

* * *

Day 23: Blue John Canyon, UT

Colorado and Utah are weird states. One place is scorching hot like a match, and the other is colder than Siberia in some places. So it was really weird how when I found myself quite literally in the middle of nowhere in Canyonland, USA, the night was spent with me freezing my ass off trying to find my truck.

If you saw 127 Hours, then you already know why I was in Blue John Canyon: I wanted to see the place where it all happened for myself. For those who don't know, Aron Ralston was what made this place so famous. His story of survival touched many across our country. Including me. He became trapped in the canyon for five days after a boulder pinned his hand against the canyon wall, before he cut his arm right off. I wasn't positive when I came to the accident site, but I think I actually stood right on the boulder itself. Even managed to chip off a few grains of it for a souvenir.

Night came, and I had made it out of the canyon. Only the stars to light my way back to my truck. It was moments like this that I barely had anymore ever since I moved to New York. There was a moment when I was hunting down the Devil Bear that I just lay down in the brush to enjoy the peaceful sounds of nature. The chirps of birds and all.

Now the dark and dusty desert left no sounds at all. Which made it almost all the more menacing. Rattlesnakes could be lurking about. Worst part of the desert, I think, is hearing the screech of an albatross flying overhead in the desert during high noon. Texas keeps haunting me.

I opened my phone, and looked at the compass app. There was a good chance that the direction I was facing was headed right for the truck. If I didn't find it by sunrise, I could use the light to find my way back in the morning.

But I saw I didn't need to. A shivering light in the distance saw me headed for it like a moth. When I got close enough, I found it was a campfire. With someone tending it.

"Howdy." Said the camper when she saw me. Looked to be in her mid twenties. Hispanic, but spoke with an American accent. "You lost, buddy?" She gestured to a spot across the fire for me to sit on.

"Yeah. My truck is parked somewhere near and I don't know where."

"The blue Chevy?"

"That's the one." I said.

"Not even a thirty second walk that way." She pointed with a flashlight in that direction. There was my truck, ready to head off when I wanted to.

"What's your name, buddy?" She said.

"Ollie. Yours, ma'am?"

"Steph. So what are you doing in the middle of the Canyonlands at this time of night, Ollie?"

"Got lost in Blue John. I wanted to go there because of-"

"Ralston. Yeah, I know what you mean. I frequent these canyons, so they ask me for directions to the site. But I'm guessing you found your way there?"

"Yeah. Getting out is the real problem."

"Amen to that. Where you from, Ollie? Denver? Salt Lake?"

"New York. But I'm originally from Washington state."

"Damn. You're a long way from home. What brings you out here this far?"

"I'm not sure. Self discovery, maybe?"

Steph smiled. "I know the feeling. You're not the first to do something like this, and you won't be the last. How long have you been gone for?"

"A little over three weeks. Haven't really had the comforts of home in a while."

Steph laughed a bit. "I can tell. No offense, but you clearly look like a guy who's lived in his truck for the last weeks."

"Yeah, I've gotten that a lot. Those guys in Albuquerque said pretty much the same thing."

"God, you've been around. Is there a reason why you're doing all this?" Steph opened her cooler, and got a beer out. "You want one?"

I took one from her as I started. "It's a long story why I've been doing this. I believe in that philosophy that everything happens for a reason. Fate, if you will. Fate spoke to me once when I was a kid. Told me to do 'as she asked'. Then I could 'do as I wished'. So I spent my life in New York finding my purpose to what fate wanted me to do. Two months ago my purpose was fulfilled. Now I'm doing as I wish. I just never thought I could do it since I'm in my early thirties. I should really get settling down instead of this shit."

"'Tho' much is taken, much abides; and tho'

We are not now that strength which in old days

Moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are;

One equal temper of heroic hearts,

Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will

To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.'"

I knew what she was quoting as soon as she said the last line. "Ulysses." I said.

Steph took a drink of beer. "You know it. That's my philosophy. You want a real light to shine your way through I life? Read it, and it'll guide you."

"Right now all I'm thinking about is where to go next."

"You're headed west, aren't you? Don't stop there. Head south to LA. You should find what you need there. I know I did. I met my fiancé there."

"Engaged?"

Steph smiled proudly. She held out the hand with the rock on it. "Seven months. Love the guy to bits."

I heard the howl of a coyote in the distance, and I jumped. Ever since Texas, any noise would be enough to make me jump. I looked out into the dark. I could see nothing much further past the campfire, and the stars in the sky. The moon was out too, but only a crescent of it.

"Easy, Ollie. You're okay." Said Steph. "Have you been keeping track of where you've gone?"

I looked back at her. "Yeah. The map's in my pack."

"Can I see it?"

I opened my bag, and handed it to her. She unfolded it, and looked down at all the places I visited. "Ho-lee shit you have been places. Miami, huh? Damn, you got New Orleans, DC, Philly. So are you, like taking a lap around the country? Looks to me you're going in a big circle if you plan on returning to New York anytime soon."

I put the map back in my bag as Steph handed it back to me. "Sounds fair enough. Head to LA, and start north from there."

"Although you gotta hit Vegas before then."

"No shit." I murmured. "It'd be my first time. Hell, this whole trip has been full of firsts."

I checked my watch. 1:54 AM. I needed to get some rest if I was hitting the road again tomorrow.

I stood up. "Thank you."

Steph smiled. "Enjoy your trip, Ollie. Not a lot of people get the adventure you're clearly having."

* * *

"And we are done, Ollie." Said Steve. He wiped off the excess ink with his cloth, and I looked down at my arm. The last lines from Ulysses were out there for me to read anytime. Now it would serve as the light to guide me for the rest of my life, and I knew it would bring me what I had coming for me in life. And that included her: The "One".


	2. Chapter 2: The Russian

Chapter 2: The Russian

"Barney, c'mon. We're more than friends! We're brothers!"

Ted

Miracles (3x20)

* * *

I missed too much after I left. On Tracy's front, things didn't work out quite the way she wanted. The week after she broke up with Louis, I invited her to stay at my place while I was gone, since she didn't have a home anymore. Then she ended up becoming my new roommate when she couldn't find a new place to live while I was gone. Ted was now living in his house in Westchester, and Barney and Robin were living uptown, so it was hard for us to all hang out when we got the chance.

I missed the last three Game of Thrones episodes while I was gone, so Tracy and I caught up on both the show, and where I had been one day at our apartment. I showed her the map, my souvenirs, and all the pictures I took. I had one self timer picture for every state and province I went through. Then just as I was flipping through the other photos, Tracy noticed the addition to my arm.

"Hey! New tattoo to add to the bunch!" She said.

I looked down on it. It usually took me about a couple weeks for me to get used to it every time I got a new tattoo, so it was strange looking at my right arm, and seeing writing there instead of bare skin.

"Yeah. That one's for my trip."

Tracy took a close look at the quote, reading it under her breath. Then she smiled. "Ulysses. Respect, Ollie." She high-fived with me.

I shrugged casually. "A camper I met on my trip recited that line. Said I should always look to those words whenever I felt lost."

"Damn right. You know those words brought me to New York?"

"No shit? That's interesting."

"My dad used to teach Literature at UCD. Every year at the beginning he would read the poem to his Lit 101 class, and at the end he would ask them to write a synthesis essay to explain how they would use these words to figure out what they would want in life. He asked me, when I was graduating school. I often thought of how 'tis not to late to seek a newer world'. Then I figured my 'newer world' was the Big Apple. Six months later we met."

I smirked. "Isn't that something. You'd only see those kinds of moments of fate in the movies."

"You know, I owe you an apology, Ollie." Tracy said, sadly.

"What is it, J?" I said.

"You know how you have always said that everything has gotta happen for a reason? Fate, destiny, and all that?"

"Sure." I said.

"I need to admit that I had lied about my belief in it. I never really believed in fate, no matter how much proof I was given. I lied to you about my belief in it, and I'm sorry."

I suddenly understood what Tracy was getting at, and instantly forgave her. "Ted was your proof. You had one of the worst weekends of your life, and then you met the 'One' for you."

"Yeah. It was strange. Remember late May we went to see the Avengers with Kelly?"

"How could I forget? She and I got into a debate over whether Cap or Iron Man was better. I still think old Stars and Stripes is awesome."

"The night after that I went to the bar to find you, but you weren't there. I met this German guy. I think he said his name was Klaus."

"Yeah? And?"

"The guy recently walked out on his fiancé at the altar. It was kinda nice, considering it was mutual. He explained to me that it was not true love. True love comes from something he called the..." She closed her eyes trying to remember. "Lebenslangerschicksalsschatz. It means the 'Lifelong treasure of destiny'. I didn't fully understand what he meant, until I saw Ted for the first time at the train station. Fate just never seemed to come to me until now."

I shook my head. "I reject that out of hand. Fate's been with you and me ever since we stepped into the world. I grew up with Lucy, she passed away. I met you and Cindy, and I was given a family I thought I would never have again. Let's not forget the Pineapple Incident."

"Beg pardon?"

"The Pineapple Incident. It's what happened to Ted the night he met us. The night he really met us. Which brings me to a question that bugged me for so long ever since I left: should we tell him? It would lift the veil on one of his biggest questions in life. To this day he never found where the pineapple came from, never realizing that the source of it is right under his nose."

Tracy nodded. "I know what you mean. But we would only get to tell him once. If anything, we should have some fun with it."

I grinned. "Alright. I see what you're getting at. A prank, if you will. We'll figure out something to make the guy flip out."

* * *

Weeks went by after Carl's announcement about his leaving the bar to someone. I wasn't so sure what it was that was holding me back from stepping up to audition for the spot, but it was something.

But my fears weren't necessary. Soon enough, Carl actually called me into his office as September reached it's midpoint.

"So, Ollie. When were you gonna submit your candidacy to me? The last minute?"

I didn't respond.

"I don't understand you, Ollie. You've been my most loyal and skilled bartender for three years, and when I announce that the bar is going to be left to someone, you don't step up like I expected you to. Unbelievable..."

I just sat there as Carl took a drink of his Coors.

"Luckily, I'm not alone in this concern. You should know how serious this is when I have to get the Brit involved."

"The Brit?" I said, forgetting who Carl was talking about.

"'ello Ollie." Said a voice in a thick accent from across the pond.

* * *

David was the great teacher that passed his skills in bartending onto me, and started my career. It had been over 3 years since we last saw each other, but there was no denying it was him with his tough as nails attitude, and his thick accent from London. For him to come waltzing into Carl's office was indeed a big deal, because David never left his bar unless if it was an emergency. And he didn't count a fire that nearly burned down a building across the street as an emergency.

"You got David involved?" I said to Carl.

"Wasn't me who called him. He actually just finished with a student of his, and wanted me to take him in. Kyle quit his position as bartender, so we have an opening."

"And then ol' Carl 'ere tells me that 'e's leaving the bar behind for one of you lucky chaps. So naturally I think it's gonna be one of my top students."

For David to say that was also huge. David was like a British bartending sensei. He rarely made many compliments on my work, and when he did, he says that it "wasn't bad". Never "good", never "great. Just "not bad".

Carl nodded. "Exactly my thoughts, David. But it's been 3 weeks since I announced the intentions of the bar's future, and still Ollie hasn't submitted his candidacy. Which is why I think it's best I raise the stakes for him."

Oh shit. What now?

Carl walked around his desk, got up real close to my face, and looked me straight in the eye. "Here's how this will play out, Ollie. First, you're gonna tell me everything about you that I know is true as to why you should be the next owner of this bar by sending me a good essay at least three pages long. Then, I'm gonna introduce you to the new guy, and you're gonna take him under your wing. All of this will prove to me what I already know, and what I know you know. Training this guy, and running for ownership will prove to me that you are awesome enough to take this bar when I move on. But if you don't pass the test, and someone else who I don't want to inherite the bar to, like Doug, then you're fired."

No...no...he couldn't be serious. Carl would never fire me. Unless if he was really serious. And technically firing me before he would leave the bar wouldn't really affect him at all. I would be expendable; the one thing I never wanted to be considered.

"Who's the new guy?" I asked without flinching.

Carl smiled, then nodded to David. David then yelled out the door to someone in a different language. It was Russian.

* * *

The problem with a lot of Russian guys is that they're scary. They're the scariest white people, and they've earned it. Ted told me of these Russian gang members that he got into a poker game with while he was drunk. He managed to piss them all off by winning all of their money, and nearly got stabbed by one guy, but they only got his tie.

The new guy walked in. He was close to bald with his buzz cut, looked to be in his mid-twenties, and I was blown away at the amount of tattoos he had. They were all over his arms, and even on his hands and fingers. Some of them that I could make out were an ankh, an alpha-omega, a dragon with flames surrounding it's head, and more. It was as if his arms themselves were blue.

"Da?" He said.

David responded with another sentence in Russian. I took it a long time ago, but I could only make out a few words due to me being out of practice. I got "training", and "American", and that was it.

The Russian guy nodded, glancing over at me. He had shining grey eyes that scared me just as much as the way how Ted described the Russians like Better Marshall and New Lily.

Then the Russian spoke up, although he talked quite slowly, straining to get the words out. He closed his eyes in furious concentration. "My name...eees...Yuri."

Yuri. Good. Simple to remember. Maybe I should ease the tension.

Using what little knowledge I had from high school, I did my best to pronounce the words. "It's great...to meet you...Yuri. Name mine Oliver. Me prefer call 'Ollie'."

"Ollie?" He repeated as best he could.

"Da." I said.

"Apologize, American. My English, how you say? It bullshit."

Yuri smiled a bit while I couldn't help but laugh. David and Carl just sat back watching with amazement.

I wanted to say to Yuri that he seemed like an interesting person to be taking as my partner, but it's hard when he can't speak English. But then again, I couldn't blame him since I just knew I made a grammar mistake with that phrase in Russian.

"Mine understand English ees very good. Me's just can't speak it."

Oh! So he could understand me, but just not speak English. Seemed easy enough.

"It's good to meet you, Yuri. I have a feeling that you and I will work together quite well."

Yuri smiled, and nodded. "Da. I's agreement."

Carl looked over at David. "Where the hell did you find this asshole?"

"Member of a small Russian gang here in New York. He was almost like a sheep in wolf's clothing if you will. Just didn't really belong. I have no doubt he will find his place among you."

Then David turned to me. "Ollie. You have an important job here. Yuri has only been under my guidance for several months. Lucky for him, I knew Russian already. Clearly you have some knowledge, so it's up to you to teach him proper English, and you to learn Russian. This'll all work well towards you proving that you belong as owner of Maclaren's. Can I count on you for that?"

I wasn't sure. The stakes were as high as they could get for me. Bartending was the only life I knew, and in 3 short years, Maclaren's had become my own true home. I couldn't let Doug or someone with no right to the ownership take it, and lose my job in the process. Did I really have a choice?

I nodded. "Da. You can count on me."

David smiled, then nodded to Carl. "Keep an eye on him, Carl. He's a good man."

"No doubt in my mind." Carl said as David walked out leaving him with me and the Russian.

Carl sat at his desk, and pulled out a bottle of vodka. Yuri scoffed.

"Seriously, Carl?" I said. "We're trying to welcome Yuri, not offend him."

"What? You guys don't like vodka?"

Yuri looked at me. What he said next I could sort of understand. This was what I thought he said: "Tell the racist fucker that I do like my vodka, but he should ask first. It just offensive if he believes I like vodka just because I'm Russian."

"He says he does like vodka. But maybe we ought not to jump to conclusions based on heritage?" I translated.

"Fine. So can I count on you to get this guy to speak English and running the bar? I wouldn't be asking you if I didn't completely trust you to do this. Consider this extra credit for passing my test to find the new owner."

Yuri and I took the glasses of vodka as I said "yes". Then we toasted to whatever, and drank.

* * *

Yuri seemed to know his way around the bar pretty well. We set him up to run the bar for fifteen minutes, and he took patrons orders with lighting speed and precision only David could have taught him.

He also wasn't lying when he said he could understand English very well. I heard where there are a few people who don't speak English, but can understand it. What didn't make sense to me though, was Yuri's lack in skill for speaking aloud, whether it be Russian or English. He barely said two words as he took people's orders. Oh well. I'd get him speaking English soon enough.

Tracy walked up to the bar with both of us working.

"Who's that?" She said with curiosity as Yuri spun a lime wedge around a pint glass' rim.

"That's Yuri. New guy I'm training. Say hi, Yuri."

Yuri glanced at Tracy, and just nodded. Then he went back to work.

"He doesn't speak much English." I said when Tracy looked confused.

Yuri then looked at us, and held a finger up. "Hold on." He was meaning to say to us.

He grabbed three lemons, and started juggling with them. A couple customers looked impressed. I heard one whistle as well.

"What he lacks in speaking skills, he makes up for in icebreakers." I said.

"Why are you training him?" Asked Tracy.

"I'll explain later."

Yuri looked at me, still juggling the lemons. "Glass." He said nodding towards the pint glasses.

I grabbed one, and placed it on the bar where he then tossed the lemons into the air in mid juggle, and grabbed the pint glass. One, two, three, they all fell right into the glass.

The patrons applauded as Yuri nodded, smiling. I could see he would fit like a peg into this place.

"Ollie." He said to me.

I glanced over at him, and he gestured. He grabbed my hand in the "bro" aspect. You know? Two bros grab the other's hand as if they're about to arm wrestle.

"Drug." He said to me. Not like "drugs", but his "u" in "drug" was a big "oo". So "droog" he essentially said to me.

"Droog?" I repeated.

"Drug." He replied. "I teach you Russian, you teach me English. Da?"

"Da." I nodded.

"Drug." He said again.

* * *

The next morning Tracy called me as I was playing Assassin's Creed. She was out with Kelly for the day.

"What's that guy, Yuri doing here?"

"Oh, yeah." I said. "So Carl, the guy who owns the place. His grandfather passed away while I was gone. He's gonna inherit the chain of bars he owned down in DC, and he needs someone to carry on Maclaren's without him. He really wants me to do it, but I wasn't sure I could do it."

"Why the hell not? It's your dream, Ollie. It's why you left for New York, and it's what Lucy would want."

"I know. It's what all my family would want for me, now. But I wasn't sure. So Carl is offering me a sort of 'extra credit' to prove myself. I need to take Yuri under my wing to basically be what I am to Carl."

"I get it. You're the Vice President moving on to be the big cheese, and need a VP of your own."

"Exactly. Carl wanted to look at someone more experienced at Maclaren's like Nick or Kenny. But our teacher David dropped this guy off on us. Yuri, Carl, and I were all taught by David. The guy's like the Mr. Miyagi of bartending. So since Yuri was trained by the best, he gets to step up to the plate early, just as I can for this ownership."

"Do you think you can do it? Run the bar?"

"I don't know, J. It's a lot of responsibility, and I don't know if I can handle it. People seem to think I can, but I really don't know. I just don't know."


	3. Chapter 3: Liberty

Chapter 3: Liberty

"What did it taste like?"

"...freedom. I'm just kidding! Pennies."

Ted and Random Girl

* * *

Day 2: Philly, PA

Heading south through the North eastern side of the US is harder than you'd think. Or it was for me, at least. I had seen a few things already in the last day, and I was already getting texts from friends who missed me. My phone buzzed as I woke up the next morning in the back of my truck. It took me a minute to remember where I was, because I wasn't sleeping in a regular bed.

Instead of sleeping in a room like most did, I figured I'd go the full experience, and maybe stay in a few hotels during important stops. This was not one of them. What I do remember was waking up, boiling hot in the canopy covered back of the truck, with me was my sleeping bag, and the few sets of luggage I had with me. I'd say at best my stuff took up a good tenth of the truck, because it was quite roomy, and I had packed so little.

I flipped open the back of the canopy, and sat at the edge of the back, looking out around the parking lot.

The morning sun was reflecting a lot of heat on the dew soaked parking lot, steam rising off like a bird slowly taking off in flight. I rolled over, opening up my blue cooler. I packed about a good week of stuff to eat before I'd need to start buying stuff.

Breakfast consisted of one of those miniature boxes of cereal, and a miniature carton of milk. As I ate my breakfast, checking up on the NY times on my phone, it vibrated with a message.

"Ted: Where r u?"

I replied back. "Philly. I took the long way around to it."

"No shit if you're only in Philly. But I'm glad I caught you before you left there. There's a guy I think would be great for you to meet. His name is Dana Vasquez."

I didn't know who it was, but I was half expecting this to happen. The gang would text me things for me to see all summer long. Robin must have maxed out her texts to me when I went into Canada.

Ted gave me the number, and told me that Dana would be expecting my call. I dialed the number, and waited as the dial tone rang.

"Hello!" Said a deep sounding voice on the other end.

"Dana?"

"Speaking! I hope this is Ollie?"

"Yeah, it is. Funny, I've never met you before. I'm one of Ted's closest friends."

Dana laughed. "I've gone to New York a couple times, but we met about 8 years ago."

Shit. That's when I realized how long I really had known Ted. Eight fucking years.

"How did you meet?" I asked.

"Tell you when you get here. I work as a security guard at the Liberty Bell. Ted said you might want something to add to your list of stuff you did."

Liberty Bell...I heard this story before, but I can't remember what it was.

"Meet me there in 15 minutes. It's closed today for personal reasons with the site manager, so I have to keep an eye on the place. You'll find me out front."

Finished my breakfast, then as the sun headed up even higher, I headed for the Bell. It was still gnawing at me how I didn't know what story it was with Ted and the Bell, but I knew I'd find out when I met this Dana.

* * *

When I pulled up to the parking lot, the gate was closed, and a large Samoan looking guy was sitting in a chair, waiting for me. I assumed that was Dana.

"Ollie!" He got up and we shook hands. "Ready for this? You'll be the third to do so."

"Honestly Dana, I don't know what you're talking about. I remember a bit of what Ted was saying about the Bell a long time ago, but that's it."

Dana laughed. "Well then, a refresher. I met Ted and Barney back in 2005. They came there because they tried to pick up two girls, but they failed because neither one of them were single."

It was all coming back to me. "Right. Then they met you, right? You let them in there?"

"Oh yeah. I let them violate one of America's most cherished landmarks, by letting them-"

"-you're gonna let me lick that thing?" I said, pointing over at it. I just remembered what the story was. Ted and Barney licked the Liberty Bell

Dana laughed. "Good way to kick off your trip?"

I shook my head. "I kicked it off by visiting Lady Liberty. This is Act 1, and the rest are right behind it."

"No kidding." Dana opened the gate. "So what's this trip all about? Going out there and seeing the world?"

"More like the country." I said. "If anything, I'm hoping to find two things on this trip: self discovery, and love."

"No shit?" Said Dana. We were starting towards the gate. "Why look for love?"

"I've served a purpose greater than myself for almost a decade. It's my turn now."

"You sure, Ollie?" He said. "Because I was always told that love comes to you the second it's your turn. And it's always at the weirdest times."

"I can understand that, I guess." I said. "Maybe I'm just impatient."

"Why be impatient? What even makes you think that what you'll have in the future will last?"

I celebrated my 23rd anniversary with her a few weeks before Ted sat his kids down to tell them how he met Tracy. How do you like them apples?

"I don't know, Dana. But I know what this is. I have done as they asked. Now I may do as I wish."

"And you wish to disfigure national treasures with your saliva?" Dana gestured to the Bell. We were as close to it as man and wife.

I grabbed the Bell in a bear hug. "Fuck yes!"

And I licked the Liberty Bell. It really _did_ taste as ted described it: freedom and pennies.

* * *

February 8th 2014

I sat at the table towards the back of the bar, fiddling with the little lock on my shot glass keychain. It was my night off, and Yuri was holding down the fort. Surprisingly, not a whole lot of people were there. I guess they had their fill from the place at the Super Bowl. Yuri came over at one point to check on me.

"Is she here yet?" He said in his thick accent. He had learned a lot more English in the past months.

"No. You think she bailed on me?" I said.

Yuri laughed, then cursed in Russian. "Ollie, you are one of my best friends in this country. You and David gave me a chance at life that the Volki never did. If you are looking for the last person that a girl would have a reason to bail on, I'm looking at Exhibit A."

I glanced over at the door, and saw her walk through. Her lightish brown hair tied up in a braid and tossed over her shoulder. She looked around, then waved at me as she came over. No smiles from her. In fact, she looked almost afraid. Like she was more nervous than me.

"I rest my case." Said Yuri. "Call me over if you need anything."

Yuri passed by her on the way back to the bar. He took a quick glance, and I almost saw something flash in his eyes. Like he noticed something about her. Something off.

"Hey." I said, a little breathlessly and happy.

"Hi." She replied in a small voice. She tried her best to smile, but it looked really forced.

I smiled at her, and looked at her right in the eyes. She had bright green ones that seemed to shine like a perfectly cut emerald, polished and under the brightest light.

"Nervous?" I said.

She tried her best to play it off, and shrugged. "I guess."

I laughed. "You don't need to be. Only the first date. All we really do is get to know each other."

She seemed to ease up, and straightened out. "What do you wanna know about me, Oliver?"

I shook my head. "Ollie, please. It's Ollie."

She shrugged. "Fair enough. So what do you want to know, Ollie?" There was a slight pause before she said my name.

I reached into my pocket, and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper. I smoothed it out on the table. It was a beautiful drawing of a blue and green hawk with the Roman numeral for twelve on it's chest. It's wings reached out, and the way how it opened it's beak seemed to perfectly indicate the sound that every 12th Man radiated out into the games. "I wanna start by knowing how you got so good with drawing, and why you would let a beautiful sketch like this go to waste." I said. "Why did I find this masterpiece in the wastepaper basket after the game?"


End file.
